


Christmas is tomorrow

by becka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Drunk Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've just played Madison Square Garden and in the midst of the great party that follows, what Louis really wants (after a lot of beer and with Eleanor's permission) is to find someplace he can shag Niall in peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas is tomorrow

He asks her for permission. Of course he does, because he’s not actually a twat, contrary to popular belief, and they have a deal, an arrangement that suits them both just fine. He doesn’t beg because that would be vulgar and make her feel as though she had to say yes, and he doesn’t want that, never wants that, but he’s breathless and panting and drunk enough that he has to blink hard to bring her properly into focus. “And you can watch if you like,” he finishes, and Eleanor bobs her head like she’s considering that. Then she waves him off with a kiss on the cheek, turns round to Danielle, and goes on like normal while Louis goes haring back across the room and grabs Niall by the waist.

Niall laughs and steadies himself on Louis’s forearms, and they blink at each other like Morse code, telegraphing the whole situation. Ed is standing right there, probably talking drunk rubbish like the rest of them, which Niall was at least pretending to follow, but Louis just spins Niall off into an improvised waltz without saying a word. A little ways off, Harry’s got an arm around Taylor’s waist, fingers curled possessively in the fabric of her dress, and although he spares a wink for Louis, it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.

Louis waltzes Niall out into a corridor and is abruptly lost. He stumbles, looking back and forth for the nearest door with a lock on the inside, and Niall’s fingers catch at his beltloop, holding him up by the back of his jeans. Louis knows if he turns to look at Niall right now he’ll kiss him and probably end up dropping to his knees right there on the plush carpet, so he puts a hand over Niall’s face and says, “Hang on, I’m thinking.”

“Not bloody likely,” replies Niall, muffled by Louis’s palm. Which he then licks. And that isn’t helping at all. Nor is Niall’s hard-on grinding into the crease of his hip, distracting Louis from the task at hand.

Finally Louis focuses enough to see the sign for the toilets down the corridor, and he rushes forward with new purpose, dragging Niall along with him.

He listens at the door marked Handicapped, pressing a finger to his lips to show this is all very stealthy, and Niall’s just grinning and his pupils are enormous, and Louis thinks he may actually die if he doesn’t get to touch Niall’s cock soon. There’s no sound from behind the door, and it moves when he turns the handle, letting them into a painfully bright and mercifully empty room.

Niall fumbles the door locked before Louis can, and his palms come up to cup Louis’s cheeks, dragging him into a deep kiss. Louis shuts his eyes and moans, grabbing fistfuls of Niall’s shirt as Niall walks him back into a wall. His tongue fucks into Louis’s mouth, and the taste of him is beer and salt, his mouth clumsy with drink. They’ve done it sober, and it’s different to this, less desperate, nose rubs and giggling and taking their time, but right now they both need to get off, and Louis is too far gone to much care how.

Niall sticks a hand straight down the front of Louis’s jeans, tight fit but straight to the point, giving one good stroke to Louis’s trapped cock before backing out and working open the zip. He slides down Louis’s body until his mouth is right against Louis’s belly, and then he looks up to say, “Like this, yeah? And then can I fuck you after?” He’s got a little packet of lube stashed in the pocket of his trousers, and he pulls it out, brandishes it like a prize. Louis’s arsehole clenches, and he nods, thumbing along Niall’s jaw, urging Niall’s head down between his legs.

“Go on then,” he says unnecessarily, and Niall tugs Louis’s jeans and pants down his thighs and licks at the tip of Louis’s cock like he’s tasting a sweet. Louis groans, reaches down and grips at himself, guiding the head against Niall’s lips, waiting for him to open. And he does, sucking smoothly at the head of Louis’s cock then down the shaft nice and easy, replacing Louis’s hand with his own around the base. Niall’s blowjobs are always wet, spit-slick and sloppy like Niall can’t help drooling over Louis’s cock. He takes it all the way to the back of his throat, and Louis thumps his head into the wall, groaning as he feels Niall open to him. It’s glorious, fireworks and shooting stars, and Louis’s drunk enough that he thinks he might want to compose songs set to the steady rhythm of Niall bobbing on his cock, taking him in deep and then drawing back.

Niall teases with the tip of his tongue in the slit, and Louis swears and presses a hand to the top of Niall’s head, irrevocably mucking up his hair, but fuck it, he’s got a beanie for a reason. “Shit,” he groans. “Close.” But Niall doesn’t pull off him, never does, rubs his tongue along the underside of Louis’s cock as Louis shudders and spills into his mouth. And all at once Niall’s on his feet again, kissing Louis’s slack lips, sharing back dribbles of his come. It’s filthy, and Louis grips Niall’s hair harder, licking the taste of himself out of Niall’s mouth, moaning as his spent cock gives a last little twitch. 

Niall is hard as stone against Louis’s thigh, and Louis reaches down to cop a feel, but Niall wriggles away. “Turn around,” he says.

Louis turns, pressing his palms against the wall, legs spread as much as he can in the bind of jeans and pants, arse up invitingly. 

“Dat ass,” says Niall in a slurry American accent, and Louis grins into the wall. Niall smacks him gently on one cheek and then the other, uses both hands to spread him open and get a dry finger into his crack, rubbing right over his hole. He tugs at the corner of the lube packet with his teeth, swears and tries again, and then swears more as the open corner spurts into his mouth.

“Not the orifice that’s supposed to go in,” Louis tells him.

“Fuck off,” says Niall, giggling and rubbing his mouth against Louis’s shoulder, trying to get the taste out.

The lube is warm from Niall’s pocket, spilling messily down the crack of Louis’s arse before Niall scoops it up and rubs it where it needs to be, two callused fingertips fitting right into the grip of Louis’s arsehole. It burns for a second when Niall pushes deeper in, and then he takes a deep breath and relaxes into it, lets himself go easy around Niall’s knuckles.

“Like that, yeah,” Niall breathes into the back of Louis’s neck, lips parted against the fine hair at Louis’s nape, tongue flickering at the very top of his spine.

Louis’s arse is slick inside, good enough certainly, but Niall keeps working him on his fingers until Louis starts to get hard again, and in his beery haze, he’s sure there must be magic involved in that. Niall slips his free hand round, feels out Louis’s half-hard cock and grins against his cheek, braces scraping a little. He gives a couple more rough finger shoves into Louis’s arse, and then pulls free to line up his cock.

Louis grabs for any part of Niall he can reach as Niall sinks into him, settling deep. He feels frantic suddenly, full up and aching in the best way, wanting to pull Niall in and keep him there. He gets a hand into Niall’s hair, pulls him round into a messy sideways kiss, all breath and the tips of their tongues touching. And it’s gorgeous, all these layers of feeling rippling through Louis’s body as Niall fucks him with hard, steady snaps of his hips. He snatches a breath to moan and Niall bites his lower lip.

They’ve done this enough now that Louis can tell when Niall’s about to come, the way he loses track of everything else, the way his thrusts go sharper, tighter, his body hunched around Louis’s as his hips snap forward. And then Niall shudders one last time and loses it, groaning out loud as orgasm overtakes him. He rests his hands on Louis’s waist almost gently, staying screwed deep in Louis’s arse until Louis can feel Niall’s come dribbling out of him, overflowing down the insides of his thighs. 

Louis lays his forehead against the wall and matches his breath to Niall’s as Niall comes down. He’s still drunk and still half-hard, but the urgency is gone, the manic energy of the show and the party and needing Niall so badly he couldn’t possibly wait for a sensible moment. Apart from the trails of spunk cooling on his thighs, Louis feels almost normal. Just really, really pleased with himself.

Niall pulls out of him with a truly obscene slurping sound. He wipes down the crack of Louis’s arse with a fistful of damp paper towel, rubbing tenderly at Louis’s arsehole until Louis swats him away, oversensitive.

“Should we go back?” asks Niall, nuzzling at Louis’s neck.

“Yeah,” replies Louis, moving not at all.

Niall’s arms come round his waist. “Are you too pissed to move or do you just need a cuddle?”

Louis tugs his jeans up with a flinch and turns into Niall’s arms. “Both, I reckon,” says Louis, tucking his chin against Niall’s shoulder. “How do we look?”

“Like we’ve been shagging in the toilet,” Niall says carelessly. He kisses the tip of Louis’s ear. “Best night of my life by far,” Niall adds, and then he unlocks the door and waltzes Louis back down the corridor to their party.

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely the fault of that stupid karaoke video, but as always: not real, didn't happen, anything that did is none of my business.


End file.
